


Age of Historia

by DaniJayNel



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Age of Adaline AU, F/F, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 18:52:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15201209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaniJayNel/pseuds/DaniJayNel
Summary: On the night of her twenty-ninth birthday, Historia Reiss would drive her vehicle off a cliff and into the waters below. She would subsequently drown, lungs filling with cold liquid, and her heart would stop. Two minutes of death would take, and then her heart would start again, and she would surface, sputter, and inhale her first new breath after being reborn. Historia Reiss would wade out of the water, away from her wrecked vehicle, and claw her way onto land, where she would collapse and shiver until an ambulance arrived. It would be twenty years before Historia would realize that she had not aged a second after her accident in the river, and that those she loved most, her family, would age without her.





	Age of Historia

Historia watched her breath fog and freeze in the air before her. Her hands were stuffed deeply in her coat pockets, yet her fingers felt frozen. Sometimes she was surprised that she _felt_ anymore, but then other times that was all she could do–feel. It wasn’t awfully late, but it seemed that way with the darkness of night around her, only punctuated by the scattered street lights, the luminous signs and billboards of the buildings and then of course the few cars toddling by. Weather reports stated that a storm was on the horizon, but currently it was only drizzling. The cold wind battered Historia’s small body–she was entirely underdressed for such weather.

Unfortunately for her, she had decided to dip out early in the wake of her friend’s celebration. Meredith was getting married, and their entire group of friends were ecstatic. Historia was too, but deep down, she loathed it. Nothing quite like the drunken giggling of much younger women to sour Historia’s mood, as it always did. She never did reveal these dark emotions, and instead faked a sore stomach and left. They were all too preoccupied with Meredith to really care, but now Historia was stuck waiting at the bus stop, in the cold wind and slight drizzle, with nothing but her thin coat to protect her–if protecting was even the correct word.

Historia sighed. A car drove past rather quickly, wheels squealing on tar, and its bright headlights speared right into her eyes. She flinched away, pulling her shivering hand out to shield her face. The damage was done, and her eyes were blinded for a moment until the discomfort faded.

“Fucking asshole,” someone muttered at her side. She hadn’t even heard anyone approach. “Put your fucking brights off, you twat.”

Historia quickly slid her hand back into the subtle warmth of her pocket. The stranger was standing quite close. It was a woman, with short, choppy brown hair and far too many dark freckles on her high cheeks and the ridge of her nose. When she noticed Historia staring, she quirked a brow.

“Hate dicks like that,” the woman said. She had the most fascinating accent that Historia caught herself staring, despite herself. “You okay?”

Historia physically forced herself to glance away, clearing her throat. “Yes, perfectly fine.”

“You look cold.”

She swallowed thickly. “Yes, well, I foolishly thought the bus would arrive sooner.”

The woman snorted. “Yeah, public transport ain’t the most reliable. You really look cold. Don’t you have someone to call?”

Historia was ashamed when she started to shiver. The more this woman reminded her how cold she was, the more the cold seeped in. It was more difficult to ignore it now. Historia glanced up at her, a biting comment at the ready, but another car passed by, brightening the woman’s eyes to a molten gold, and Historia’s words died right there on her lips. She was utterly taken aback by how beautiful they were and caught herself nearly slipping forward. Warm hands came down on her shoulders, making her shiver. “You okay there?”

Historia’s teeth chattered. “Bit freezing, to be honest.”

The woman grinned. “Thought so.” Her warm hands disappeared and she shrugged out of her much thicker coat. She offered it but Historia stepped away, shaking her head. “Oh come on, take it.”

Historia pulled her hands free and waved them. “I can’t, you’ll be cold then!”

“I’m a natural heater. Barely feel the cold. Come on, it’s all toasty warm in this thing.”

She was tempted, she would admit that, but she looked away to mask a smile and wrapped her arms around herself. “You’re very kind, but I think I’m okay.”

“What’s your name?”

She hesitated, hating this question each and every time it came up. “Krista.”

“Krista. I’m Ymir.” Historia gasped lightly when the coat covered her shoulders. She was instantly enveloped by the warmth within, and couldn’t control the loud sigh of relief. Her shivers died down almost immediately. “There, see?” Ymir said, smirking. “Much better.”

Since Ymir seemed to be the stubborn type, Historia decided to concede. She pulled the coat up around her face and pressed her lips to the warm material. Ymir’s scent filled her nose, making her heart beat double the speed it usually did.

Ymir looked towards the road, sighing and scooping her long fingers through her brown hair. She was exquisitely attractive, all sharp angles and full lips and dark, brown skin. The brown of her eyes was a shade so astounding that it reminded Historia of every happy childhood memory she had. There was just something about Ymir that drew Historia in, even though they barely knew each other at all, and even though Ymir hadn’t done anything worthy of such attraction besides, well, being sexy.

Ymir’s gaze returned to hers and those lips pulled up in a knowing smirk. Historia’s tummy fluttered–something it hadn’t done in a _long_ time. “Where are you headed, Krista?”

Krista. There was that name. A lie, a fake. But coming from Ymir’s mouth, wrapped around those lips and that accent, she could almost stomach it. She found her own lips crafting up into a small smile without even putting effort into it. “Couple blocks away,” she said. “I live nearby.”

Ymir nodded her head, causing a few stray locks to fall forward and sit against her temple. “Cool, cool. Would you like me to walk you?”

“I can really wait for the bus.”

Ymir made a dramatic show of eyeing up and down the road. “It appears the bus has decided to forsake us tonight.” She smiled, all teeth. “I don’t mind walking. I’m big and strong.”

Historia’s entire body felt like it was aflame. How on earth was this complete stranger making her feel these things? “I’d quite like to wait,” Historia decided. “But you’re more than welcome to wait with me.”

Ymir seemed pleased enough with that. She scooted a little closer until they were pressed up together, and she really hadn’t been lying. Even through all the clothes, Historia could feel her heat. The silence wasn’t altogether uncomfortable, and something about Ymir just made Historia feel like she could never speak a word again, and she would be fine. But she craved to hear more of Ymir’s voice.

“Where are you from?” she heard herself asking before truly thinking about what to say. Instead of backtracking, she went along with it. Ymir looked down at her, face a little surprised. Her hair was damp, Historia finally noticed. It was clearly brown, but almost black looking from the rain.

“My accent gave me away, huh?” Ymir said, chuckling. “I’m not British or anything.”

Historia lifted her brow then. “No, you sound similar, but not quite.”

She chuckled–it was rich and deep, and it did things to Historia’s pulse. “Think you could guess?”

Historia focused her gaze. Ymir was clearly amused. “New Zealand?”

Ymir brushed her hair away from her face again, laughing. “Close! Very close. No. I’m South African.”

Historia clenched her hands into fists. Something about the way Ymir’s voice softened made her want to reach out and touch her. “I’ve never really heard that accent before.”

“Yeah, not many people have. We sound British, yet not. Blame them, though, for influencing our country so much.” She chuckled, glanced down and smiled softly. Talking of her home made her soften. “But there are actually so many accents. You can’t consider mine _the_ South African accent. It’s just the white English equivalent.”

Historia nodded. “That’s fascinating.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“Oh, not at all.”

“That’s good, ‘cause you’d break my heart.” She laughed, and Historia wanted to be surrounded by nothing but that laugh. To her own surprise, she giggled.

Ymir opened her mouth, cheeks darkened, but a bus suddenly pulled in beside them and released a great breath of air. Historia glanced away, fighting off a grin.

“I guess our patience won out.” She made for the door, glanced back to see Ymir smile at her.

“Guess it did,” Ymir said.

Historia didn’t want to leave, but she didn’t really have a reason to stay. “Thank you for waiting with me, Ymir. Oh, and here’s your coat.” She held it out. Ymir took it and shrugged it back on.

“Anything for a pretty girl.” Oh, she was quite smooth. “Will I ever see you again?”

There was a heavy layer of hope there, one that made Historia’s heart squeeze in pain. She knew that she shouldn’t, that this was a very, _very_ bad idea. Ymir was clearly the sort of person that she could get addicted to, and she was already feeling the faints whispers of withdrawal, and she hadn’t even left yet. Ymir’s open, vulnerable face made the decision for her.

“I hope we do, Ymir,” she said, smiling with genuine feeling. “Thank you for your company.” She turned and boarded the bus. She only dared to look out of the window once she was seated, and watched Ymir stare after her as the bus drove off. Her stomach felt tied up in knots, but it was the most she had felt in a long time.

Before long the cold started to wrap around her skin again, and when she got off at her stop, she was shivering and pale, but the memory of Ymir’s warm eyes and welcoming smile made it bearable.

XxX

_On the night of her twenty-ninth birthday, Historia Reiss would drive her vehicle off a cliff and into the waters below. She would subsequently drown, lungs filling with cold liquid, and her heart would stop. Two minutes of death would take, and then her heart would start again, and she would surface, sputter, and inhale her first new breath after being reborn. Historia Reiss would wade out of the water, away from her wrecked vehicle, and claw her way onto land, where she would collapse and shiver until an ambulance arrived. It would be twenty years before Historia would realize that she had not aged a second after her accident in the river, and that those she loved most, her family, would age without her._

XxX

She tended not to commit many things to memory. Time was an ever stretching thing, something that she no longer seemed to grasp. It went on and on, uncaring with those that couldn’t go on with it. But time continued, as our perception of it did, and there was nothing Historia could do but simply follow. She went through the motions, put on her face. She was both in awe of the road ahead and disgusted by it. Here her life seemed to be never ending, and many would kill for such a thing, including her–she would kill herself, if she ever built the courage.

Many people adored her. Men and women wanted to be with her, like her, around her. She was attractive, and her years of walking the earth had given her an air of sophistication, of maturity. Historia was cursed to live forever, it seemed. But despite how many people surrounded her, she always felt alone, because none of them got under her skin.

So when, months later, Historia sat alone at her usual spot at her usual cafe, she recalled her encounter with that lovely stranger, so briefly ago, her heart stuttered and her brows knit together in confusion. She remembered it all with clarity. It felt ages ago, yet it also felt like only seconds had passed.

Today was a special day, too. Historia had just turned 104. She looked not a day older than 24.

“And here I thought I’d never see you again.”

She startled at the voice, at the sudden ache it brought forth within her. She dropped the book she had been reading and whipped her head up. Ymir stood beside her table, grinning ruefully. “Ymir?”

“I’m sorry for imposing like this,” she said, face apologetic—and beautiful. “I was walking by and saw you, and I knew I had to say hi. I feel like…” She looked away, cheeks flushing. “This might sound really weird, but I feel like I need to know you.”

Historia’s heart fluttered. She knew that couldn’t be. Ymir was so sweet, so young. _So_ young in comparison. The smart and mature thing would be to turn her away, wave off whatever this connection between them was. Historia felt it, that tug towards Ymir, towards this alluring woman. Her mind told her to say no, but her heart longed for other things.

“May I sit?” Ymir asked her, suddenly anxious looking. Vulnerable. Almost scared.

Historia could feel a multitude of things, all of which ended at Ymir. Would this end well? Where would they go? Separate ways, or back to her hotel, where they would discard their clothes and their identities, and simply enjoy each other? She shivered.

 _Say no,_ _Historia,_ she told herself. _Say no to spare her the hurt, as you’ve not been able to spare yourself._

Historia looked up into Ymir’s beautiful eyes, trailed her gaze along her high cheekbones and full lips and that defined jaw. She swallowed.

“Sure,” she found herself mumbling.

Grinning, Ymir did. Heart leaping, Historia wondered what she was doing.

She supposed she would find out.


End file.
